Did you see that? Hearts of birders flutter as plethora of birds soar during BirdFest 2014

"When you realize a bird is not just a bird, it's so much more, it opens up a new world you didn't know existed," said Pat Pagel of Wabasha, Minn.

Claire Thomas’ senses fired on all cylinders. As her ears zeroed in on the sound of distant "thwacking", her eyes scanned the canopy of longleaf pines. It was out there, somewhere, hiding in the dense Lacombe marsh. And she was close. She felt it. Blinking was not an option. It meant potentially missing her one shot.

Then, like a lioness stalking its prey, she raised the scope to her eye and honed in. This was her moment, years in the making.

Just 30 or so yards away, tucked in the marshy foliage of the Big Branch Marsh National Wildlife Refuge, a land so beautiful lawmakers have made it illegal to disturb its natural topography, fluttered the majestic creature of near mythical proportions. Often spoken about, but rarely, if ever, seen in person, the Red Cockaded woodpecker was every bit as beautiful as Thomas had imagined. She savored the moment, let it sink in, lowered the binoculars, took a deep breath, and smiled.

Sponsored by a Mandeville-area nonprofit, the Northlake Nature Center, the Bird Fest, in its 18th year, draws up to 300 people annually from across the country who descend on St. Tammany Parish to take advantage of eight different trips April 11-13 that showcase one of the best bird watching areas, arguably, in the country, the Mississippi River Flyway.

The event, held every April, coincides with a migratory phenomenon known as a “fallout” which occurs when birds, battle-tested from wind, rain and fatigue, are so tired after flying across the Gulf of Mexico they “drop” (metaphorically speaking, of course) out of the sky and rest for a few days, or weeks, before continuing on to their destination.

In other words, if you’re a birder, you want to be in St. Tammany Parish during April.

I’d be darned if I wasn’t going to take advantage.

With this rare woodpecker swirling overheard, Thomas offered up her binoculars. I obliged, grabbed them and pulled them close. Oops. Her neck was still attached. “No. It’s ok,” she said, her head nearly touching mine. “These straps stretch. Lean in. Fast. Don’t miss it.”

A flurry of bark, limbs and leaves whizzed by the eye slits. Then I settled in on it, and the elusive species came into focus. Unlike other woodpeckers, the Red Cockaded woodpecker lives only in live trees, but only rare longleaf pines 80 years or older that have developed heart disease which causes its bark to become malleable enough for the woodpecker to peck a nest inside, a process that can take up to two years. With white circular spots adorning its blackish feathers, and males sporting a red circle on their head, its beauty is debatable, but that’s beside the point.

It’s a dying breed.

With an estimated 6,000 family units, or 15,000 total left in the country — less than one percent of the woodpecker’s 1.5 million population at the time of European Settlement — federal protections were put in place in October 1970 to make anyone who kills or harms the woodpecker, or its habitat, subject to jail time and stiff fines. In other words, it’s listed as an endangered species by the National Wildlife Federation because it faces extinction following a depletion of longleaf pines harvested for new home construction. Conservation efforts and awareness, however, have increased its numbers, albeit slowly.

“We just got to see something that maybe only a third of the population ever sees,” said Thomas, a 20-year birder who moonlights as a BirdFest guide. “This is the Holy Grail of birding for this area.”

“You’re lucky,” she told me.

And to think I’m getting paid to write about this experience too.

Yes, I am lucky.

But so was everyone who attended the three-day event that included a social, photo workshop, a boat trip to Manchac, and stops at Honey Island Swamp, the Bogue Chitto River and Boy Scout Boardwalk, a wooden trail snaking through the Big Branch Marsh National Wildlife Refuge in Lacombe.

Strangers in a strange land, these men and woman rolled into town in pickup trucks, sedans and sports cars, each donning a license plate from unheard of counties in far away places like Minnesota, Iowa, Arkansas and Colorado, to name a few. They carried binoculars around their necks and some sported Indiana Jones hats. Maps jutted out of their pockets, and calloused hands clinched green checklists of more than 120 birds likely to been seen.

It was time to start checking them off.

A rare Bald Eagle? Check. Carolina Chickadee? Check. A Blue-winged Teal? Check. Pine Warbler? Check. Then, as guide Marty Guidry, of Baton Rouge, cued up a birdcall on his iPod encased in a waterproof speaker case, it was time to check off the Marsh Wren that responded to the recorded mating call. Later, when it was dark, Guidry played an owl hoot, drawing an Eastern Screech Owl close, only visible at night via flashlight. Check again. And add an exclamation point for kicks.

For Pat Pagel, the 1,100-mile, 20-hour drive was well worth it.

As a birder for 30 years, the retired nurse from Wabasha, Minn., was impressed with the first day of BirdFest, a high recommendation from someone who’s logged 1,800 sightings during birding travels to Africa, Ecuador, Trinidad and Tobago, Iceland and Mexico.

“When you realize a bird is not just a bird, it’s so much more, it opens up a new world you didn’t know existed,” she said.

After spending a few hours with this crew, I was starting to realize this myself. Birding is serious business.

Rebecca Wheeler, for instance, from Little Rock, Ark., has traveled to Peru, Ecuador, Costa Rica, Columbia, Chile and now Lacombe to bird watch. “It’s like an Easter egg hunt for adults” that she just can’t get enough of, she said.

Meanwhile, Jan Robert, 60, of Covington, a “novice, but learning,” has found a new passion in life to keep her busy as she enters retirement.

And Joan Glabach, 70, of Windsor, Colo., who sported an outdoor vest with 20 or so patches from bird watching travels to Alaska, Iceland, and Yellowstone National Park, among other places, has used the hobby to bond with her travel companion, her husband Jay, 72. Each logged about 500 bird sightings.

“It’s just about being outside,” Robert said. “The beauty, the serenity of it all just makes you stop and enjoy the moment, to take it all in.”

Joan Glabach nodded. “It’s like a game to see how many birds you can get. It’s very relaxing. But for me, it’s not so much about seeing the special birds, but to see a lot of birds. I came here to see a lot of birds, and this area has delivered,” she said.

For the serious birders though, seeing as many birds as possible, including the rarest of them all, is the name of the game.

While many greenhorns log a bird if they only hear it chirping, following an honor system that’s hard to refute, the competitive abide by tournament and American Birding Association rules which, in some cases, require a picture for the bird to be counted. And despite what many say, including the 2011 movie “The Big Year” staring Jack Black, Owen Wilson and Steve Martin which portrayed warring birders in deviously funny competition, the hobby is not fierce. Rather, birders encourage each other.

The 20-year-old Northshore Louisiana Bird Club, for instance, which holds open meetings at 7 pm. every third Wednesday of the month at Grace Disciples of Christ church in Mandeville, sends out mass emails on a list serve when rare birds are spotted nearby. From there, birders scramble in all directions — if they think the citing is credible — to find the bird.

Thomas once drove to Vicksburg, Miss., a three- to four-hour drive, when a Snowy Owl, predominately found in the north, lost its way and wound up in the south.

Meanwhile, the world’s most serious birders travel much further, dropping everything on a dime to fly across the country, even the world, to log a bird. Sandy Komito, Owen Wilson’s character in the “Big Year” holds the world record with 721 bird sightings in one year, a “Big Year” for sure.

And to think, I only had to travel 15 minutes to Lacombe to see one of the rarest birds of them all, that little Red Cockaded woodpecker.

Don’t hate me, mom, but I may be saving for myself the bird feeder I just bought and stained for your birthday.

Matt Penix is the Tammany Sportsman. Submit news and photos about recreational sporting events on the north shore to penixmatt@hotmail.com.